Nothing Left to be Taken
by flowinthestream12
Summary: Sansa had one moment to believe she had finally escaped her fate of being King Joffrey Lanister's wife and queen. She was then informed that he would never let her go. Now, here she is being forced to give her virginity to the king. Will Sandor be able to comfort her? Warning: potential triggers. Disclaimer: I haven't read the books so I can only go by what I've seen from the show.
1. Summons

Sansa yanked the wide-toothed seashell comb through her damp copper hair. She had barely stopped trembling since her hopes came crashing down when Littlefinger offered to take her back to her home in the North. She knew she had made the smart decision to not flee King's Landing. But, that didn't change how her heart ached to be free. Shae, her most recent handmaiden, hovered nearby waiting for Sansa to allow her to try to detangle her hair again.

Sansa hadn't meant to be so cross with her when the woman yanked through the knots in her hair.

She glanced up to meet her dark eyes in the mirror, trying to sound steady and kind, "Will you empty my bath water?"

"Yes, my lady." replied Shae, curtseying the way she had for the Queen.

Sansa gave her a small smile, remembering how that bow had angered the Joffrey's mother. It was all she could muster to convey amusement. She doubted she would recognize the sound of her own laughter anymore. Sansa was still dripping from her bath that Shae had assisted her with. Beads of water sparkled on her bare, pale skin in the moon's light.

Shae trotted back over to Sansa to place the large cloth back from where it had slipped down to Sansa's naked waist from her shoulders.

Sansa didn't meet her handmaiden's eyes this time, "Thank you."

Her hair finally detangled, Sansa set the comb gently down on her dresser counter and gripped the cloth beneath her delicate chin. She heaved herself to her feet and was about to ask Shae to bring her a night dress to sleep in when a knock came at her bedroom door.

Sansa shared a frightened look with Shae before clearing her throat, "I am not decent. Can this wait?"

She frowned as the door creaked open and another handmaiden peaked up nervously at Sansa, "King Joffrey has sent me for you."

Sansa swallowed her trembles and stood her ground, "Did he say what he wanted?"

The handmaiden shook her head, "It's not my place to say. But, I think he intends you to sleep in his bed tonight, my lady. If it's not too bold for me to suggest."

What little color Sansa had in her hollowing cheeks faded to porcelain. But, she had mastered not allowing even a flicker of emotion to chance across her face.

Sansa nodded down at the handmaiden, "Give me a moment to dress."

The handmaiden curtseyed, in the Queen's accepted way, for Sansa and carefully closed the bedroom door to wait in the darkening hallway for her. Sansa turned on the spot quickly to Shae. This woman was the only one so far that Sansa trusted with her true feelings. She pulled down her protective wall and allowed her terror to bleed into every detail of her beautiful face. There was a burgundy dress laying in Shae's arms.

Sansa turned her back to the handmaiden and let her bath cloth slip down to her ankles, whispering with a tremble, "Why red?"

"It compliments your striking hair, my lady." replied Shae, her heavy accented voice trying to soothe Sansa.

But, Sansa could guess why Shae had chosen this color. As she raised her arms for Shae to pull the dress down around her, Sansa felt a traitorous tear drip down her high cheekbone. Once the dress was fitted into place around Sansa's developing figure, Shae started to back away.

Sansa turned around and clasped her hand around the handmaiden's wrist, "Come with me."

None of the three said a single word as they climbed stone steps and _click-clacked _down dark corridors. Sansa focused all her attention on suppressing every fear bubbling up her tightening throat. In what seemed like no time at all, Sansa found herself standing before Joffrey's bedroom door.

"He will meet you inside, Sansa Stark." said the handmaiden Joffrey had sent for Sansa. "He is finishing his important meeting."

Sansa gave a slight downward tilt of her chin to let the woman know she had heard her. Shae gave Sansa's hand a gentle squeeze before unbinding her hand from the horrified young girl. Sansa's fingers reached out for Shae's numbly as she stared at the strong, ornate door. Shae nodded compassionately and pulled the door open for Sansa.

"I will see you in the morning, m-my lady." said Shae as Sansa forced her feet to carry her over the threshold which she could only compare to the mouth of hell.

Sansa gazed over her shoulder and watched Shae's dark eyes till the door was closed behind her, mouthing, "Promise?"

Shae blinked once and Sansa interpreted that her handmaiden had read her trembling lips. Sansa didn't know how long she stood in Joffrey's room. Her blue eyes were staring into nothingness. Her damp copper hair was drying over one shoulder. She turned on the spot with a gasp as she heard the door close again behind her. There stood King Joffrey.

"It is every girl's dream to have herself taken by a King," he slurred, chucking the empty bronze cup across the room.

It hit the stone wall with a earsplitting _clang_. Sansa briefly closed her eyes at the painful sound, "It is an privilege my heart has been aching for, your Grace. My only wish is that it was still I whom you chose to marry. I am not good enough for you."

She had indeed been anticipating the day she would have to submit to the murderer of her father. Certainly, not in a delightful way and in no way did she wish to be his wife. That desire had turned cold with its death at her father's beheading. Sansa tried to redirect her line of thought to pleasant things, hoping to lessen the difficulty she was experiencing with concealing her fear and hatred of this unworthy king. But, what else did she have left to protect from Joffrey's poison?

She resisted flinching as the young king stalked around her to his ornate canopy bed, "I executed your traitor father, keep you from your birthplace in the north, and you still love your king?"

Sansa swallowed her disgust, "With all my heart, your Grace."

"Undress for your beloved king," he swayed drunkenly, pointing at Sansa's hip, "and remove my pants."


	2. Savior in a Sea of Foes

"I made a promise to you," he sneered down at her primal aggression in her eyes. "You've had your blood, have you not? You will never be my wife. But, you will deliver and mother my bastards."

Sansa did not allow his words to put a dent in the fury she had for him in this moment. She redirected the panic to the safety of her heart.

"You will never have my heart," she snarled up at him, pushing herself up and flushing when she realized the front of her dress had been entirely torn down to her navel because of her struggling beneath him. "That's something you can never take away from me."

Joffrey scoffed down at her, "You are a hard one to break. Perhaps you are good enough for me. But, what would I want with your stupid heart when I can bypass it into all you have to offer me? By all means, keep it. I don't need it."

Joffrey secured his pants by tying the strings into a bow and left her alone in his bedroom. Sansa hesitated for a moment longer, waiting for him to return, before leaping off of his bed. She crumbled to the ground with a yelp as pain spread from her entry with the too fast movement. Sansa crawled on her hands and knees, barely aware of the tears streaming down her face paled with mortification. She reached up and grasped the stone border around Joffrey's balcony.

Sansa whimpered as she pulled herself back to her feet and pressed her stomach against the ornate stone railing, her dried copper hair curtaining her face. There was no one in the streets below her. It was still too early even for the knights to be awake. Sansa's face suddenly fell blank. She felt so numb she couldn't even feel the pain Joffrey had inflicted upon her anymore. With trembling hands, Sansa climbed up on top of the railing and stood up till her hands were pressed against the bottom of the balcony above her.

All her senses were dull to her surroundings. She couldn't hear the bedroom door open and slam shut over the faint whistling in her ear. Sandor Cleanage had seen the bully of a king leave his bedroom with a smug grin stretched across his wicked face that sent chills down his own tall spine. His good eye fell upon the blood stain on the king's bed. He spun around where he stood, looking for the woman Joffrey had been with. He froze when he heard a choked sob coming from behind the curtains encasing the king's balcony.

He closed the distance between him and the balcony steps with only a few giant strides and pushed aside the curtains. Though he was a tall man, he had to look up for the first time to see the back of someone's head. It was the little bird, Sansa Stark. Her back was to him, standing on top of the short stone wall with her arms stretched high above her, her hands pressed against the ceiling. He was momentarily stunned yet again by her youthful beauty on the cusp of womanhood.

Sansa swallowed deeply and closed her eyes to the rising sun, slowly stretching her arms down till they were fanned out in line with her shoulders. Freedom was two steps away.

"Forgive me, father." she breathed and lifted her foot out in front of her.

Sandor lunged forward, coiled his muscle-bound arms around her skinny legs, all the while roaring, "NO!"

Sansa screamed as she was yanked back over the edge and came crashing down on the soldier of the king who stole everything from her. She wriggled out of his slackening grip and staggered to her feet.

"There's nothing here for me anymore!" she cried down at him. "Why did you stop me?"

Sandor heaved himself up till he was looming over her, "Nothing, is that it? Then, what am I doing here? You can't be left alone. Come with me."

He gripped her wrist in his dirty hand and she twisted against his strength, "No, please! Let me go!"

"My heart is growing ill of needing to save you, to protect you." he whispered down to her, pulling her writhing body to his chest. "I won't let you take your own life, Sansa."

It was the first time he had called her by her true name rather than 'little bird'. Sansa pounded her free fist against his stomach which was as hard as stone. Sandor did not flinch at the weak blows she was drilling against his chainmail. He waited for her to tire herself out. A few agonizing moments past before Sansa collapsed against his belly and he scooped her back to her feet by quickly gripping beneath her tiny biceps.

He was too consumed with trying to calm her down to spare any amount of attention to her exposed chest.

"Come with me, you can rest somewhere safe." She heard his deep voice say.

Sansa shook her aching head and groaned weakly, "No, I can't leave Kings Landing. He'll find us. He'll never let me go -"

"I promise I won't take you beyond your cage, little bird." he said soothingly, raising her higher so that her head was resting on his collarbone hidden beneath his armor which he never seemed to undress from. "It's to my quarters I'm taking you."

Sansa blinked up at him once more before her eyes rolled back into her head and her head hung back. Sandor pressed his lips together with compassion. The poor young woman had finally fainted after her ordeal. He could hear tiny drops of blood dripping from her bare feet to the stone floor. He carefully scooped her up into his arms and turned away from the blood on the railing, tucking her head beneath his chin.


	3. Scars

Sansa was sleeping on a very old cot, deaf to the commotion outside Sandor's quarters. A storm was threatening to burst upon the people still scurrying around in the streets. Oncoming thunder beckoned these people to hurry with their errands. Sandor had ripped his cloak from the metal around his shoulders and used it as a blanket to keep the young woman warm. He tried to ignore the hitching breaths she took as she endured a nightmare.

She was curled up beneath his cloak, her strayed hand twitching its fingers each time she gave a tiny convulse in her sleep. Sandor glanced over his shoulder at her, watched her for a moment, then turned his attention back to keeping all prying eyes at bay. He would return her to her own bed before sunset. No one should notice her absence throughout this day. He was the only one who did.

But, now the beauty was under his roof, sleeping in his filthy bed. It had been unusually easy to carry her unseen by anyone else from the king's quarters to his own. Sandor's armor and chainmail were in a heap near where he sat. All he was still wearing were his pants and boots. It felt good to allow his flushed skin to breathe. Sansa suddenly flinched awake, her striking blue eyes wide and her copper hair drooping down over her shoulders in sweat.

Sandor turned his head to acknowledge that he knew that she was awake. Sansa clutched her damaged dress to hide her breasts and pulled Sandor's cloak up to her chin with her other hand. Her lips trembled as she resumed crying. Sansa let go of her dress to cup her eyes in that palm. Sandor's eyebrows slanted upward sadly and he heaved himself to his towering height.

He turned to face her. Sansa heard the clanking of his metal boots and peaked up at him. Sandor took her lack of reaction to seeing him as an invitation to come closer. He took one hesitant step, waited another moment, then took more till he could sink down onto the cot beside her. She did not scoot away from him.

He frowned at the realization that he no longer frightened her. Perhaps he never had. When the wooden bed creaked ominously beneath his added weight, he smiled apologetically down at her and slipped off the edge to sit on the dirty floor.

Sandor tilted his chin upward to try to meet her eyes, "Sansa?"

Sansa shook her head, her chin brushing against his cloak now clutched in both of her hands, "There was so much blood. I couldn't get away."

Sandor frowned. He didn't understand how she could still fear King Joffrey when she was as far away from him without leaving Kings Landing. Ignoring his fear of rejection, Sandor lifted his large hands and gently pulled Sansa's hands away from her chin. She looked down at him, her wet lips parting.

"It's alright, little bird." He said, his baritone voice soothing her. "You're safe here." Their eyes didn't break away from each other for what seemed like many passing minutes, perhaps too many to be appropriate; Sandor cleared his throat, "You should try to rest some more. I've got to take you back soon."

Sandor grunted as he heaved himself back to his feet, gently pushing Sansa back down onto her pillow with his other hand still grasped in her delicate fingers. He pulled his cloak up over her chest and back with his free hand and made to slip away but she strengthened her grip. She was breathing so shallowly. She was still so scared, too scared to be alone. Her eyes were at least closed.

His hand felt so warm to her. She noticed that he must have cleaned them to touch her. Sandor sank back down onto the cot. The bed did not strain again. He crawled over her to lay on the other side of the small bed.

She found herself smiling when she felt his strong chest press against her back. She tugged his hand still in her grasp so that his heavy arm was draped over her bare shoulders. The dark clouds finally rained down upon the people outside. Sandor chuckled quietly at the sound of the indignant cries about getting wet.

He felt Sansa squeeze his hand, "Don't laugh at them, Sandor. It's not kind."

Sandor frowned at the back of her copper head, "You think I'm kind?"

Sansa sighed as she turned to gaze up at him over her shoulder, "I know you to be capable of it."


	4. Rain Dance

Sandor awoke to the soft _plunks _of gentle rain pattering against the roof of his quarters. He lifted his head and found that he was alone on the little cot, half his shins dangling off the frame. He furrowed his single brow, peering around his room for Sansa. Sandor wondered if she had returned to her bedroom on her own ... or if she had changed her mind and ran away. He heard a tiny splash outside his door and threw his blanket off of him. He staggered over to the opened door, rubbing his eyes against his forearm as he went.

There was Sansa with her back to him. He blinked numbly, observing her porcelein skin visible at the tear from the base of her back to her ankles. Her red copper hair had darkened in the showering rain. She had her delicate hands stretched upward to the heavens, bouncing on the toes of her feet. Sandor frowned at her blissful behavior, a disconcerting change from the terror he had seen on her beautiful face just hours before.

Rain water dripped slowly from the roof across the way from Sandor's quarters down onto a barrel sealed tightly with animal skin. The sound was beating like a drum, like _music_. Sandor noticed that her feet were bouncing to the _clunks _the water drops made when they hit the taut animal skin. He could hear her voice singing wordlessly, softly and intended for none to hear but herself. She lowered her hands to run her fingers through her drenched hair down to her neck.

She flung out her arms as she twirled on the spot, Sandor catching glimpses of the wide grin on her face. The little bird was spreading her wings, even if it was just for a moment. Sandor despised King Joffrey, confused as to how even a stupid bully like that could choose not to marry such a strong young woman. The poor girl had been raped not more than a day ago and here she was, dancing in the rain.

Sansa's green eyes saw Sandor watching and she spun to an unsteady stop, the torn flaps of her dress twisting around her long legs.

Her porcelein cheeks flushed with rosy color, "I never thanked you for saving my life. How can I repay you?"

For the first time ever since she met him, Sandor _grinned_. "Share a meal with me, Sansa."


	5. A Meal With Him

When Sandor returned from the royal kitchens, he found his quarters to be empty once again. He peered around it with his good eye after setting two plates, two goblets for wine, and a woven bag of bread, meat, and butter on his circular table. He had also asked for an apple for Sansa, who seemed to have fled. Sandor didn't understand why she would leave without him. She had plenty of chances to leave before he woke up. He heard the chest in the far corner behind him open and he turned slowly to look at it.

There was the copper-haired beauty unfolding herself from within the wooden chest.

Sandor closed the distance between them to offer help, "Why were you hiding, Sansa?"

Sansa took his hand and held the back of her slit dress together with the other, "Someone came in. I thought it could be the king. I couldn't risk waiting to find out if it was a friend in this sea of foes." Sansa smelled the meat on the table and smiled up at Sandor, "It's no longer a mystery how you're so tall and strong while on a soldier's pay."

Sansa expected him to let go of her hand. But, he continued to hold it gently. Dancing in the rain had helped raise her spirits. She had been talking to her father's memory, displaying for him that she was still alive and was refusing to give up. Sandor turned away from her but he was still holding her dainty hand. Sansa let him lead her to the small circular table.

He pulled the warm bread, ball of butter, and chicken breast out of the woven bag.

Sandor didn't know what his feelings were towards the young woman sitting across from him. They had hardly been alone together, especially not like this. He had never experienced something like this. To care was an alien feeling to him, something he had never received from anyone in his life. Sansa observed the handsome side of his face that wasn't brutally scarred whenever she thought he wasn't looking.

She had expected him to eat like the 'hound' he always described himself to be. So, Sansa was surprised by how well mannered he was behaving.

Sansa took a deep breath,"Please, don't make me go back, sir."

Sandor looked up from heavily buttering his bread, "It will not be I to throw you back in, Lady Stark. I laid awake for a long time through the night, waiting for them to take you away from me. We don't have long now. A blinded man could not overlook you."

Sansa toyed her food with her fingers, pushing them around on her plate, "Would you take me for a fool for feeling so safe with you?"

He just stared at her.

Sansa felt herself blush sheepishly, "It's a privilege I thought I lost forever."

Sandor scooted his stool closer to the table, "I want you to fly away, Little Bird. Whether its tomorrow, next week, or a year from now. I want you to find the strength to flee Kings Landing."

Sansa shook her head, pressing her lips together, "I won't." When he furrowed his single brow, she added, "Not without you, Sandor."

Sandor gulped and found himself leaning across the table, closing the distance between them. Sansa's striking green eyes never broke from his, her rosy lips parting. Sandor hesitated no more than an inch from her then she tilted her chin up, pressing her lips against his.


	6. Back Into The Fray

Sansa gasped when Sandor's large, strong hands pulled her onto his lap right off of her stool. He situated her snow-white legs on either side of his waist wide with muscle. Sansa was shaking in his grasp and he hesitated for a moment, waiting for her permission to continue. She gulped deeply and slowly snaked her pale arms around his neck to gently grip his long hair at the back of his head. Sansa hovered her lips over his and gazed upon his closed eyes.

"Kill me, please." she breathed.

Sandor's eyes opened while the rest of his face became stony, "I didn't save your life to take it from you myself, Lady Stark."

"It will be easier for me," insisted Sansa; Sandor could see a feverish craze in her emerald eyes. "It'll be easier for me. Please, kill me now."

Sandor glanced between each of her eyes and stood up. Sansa slid gracefully back down to her feet and allowed him to cup her face in his enormous hands, "You are a selfish girl, Little Bird."

Sansa furrowed her soft brows up at him and placed a hand on one of his against her cheek, "Maybe you're the one whose selfish for keeping me alive."

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop the king from plucking your flower, Lady Stark." growled Sandor. "I believed once that you were an extraordinary girl. I know you wouldn't have done it."

"If you hadn't pulled me back, I can assure you that I would not be here right now." said Sansa quietly, pulling his hands off of her face.

Suddenly, the gigantic soldier gripped her tiny wrist and yanked her towards the front door.

"Let go of me!" Sansa yelped, digging her bare heels into the dirt floor. "Where are you taking me?"

Sandor pulled her close to him, "To a place where I won't be tempted to end your suffering. Find your strength again, Sansa Stark. Death is not your freedom. Keep fighting. "


	7. Unsafe With Him, Unsafe Without Him

The skin around Sansa's lime green eyes were reddened with tears. After only a few minutes, Sandor released his grip on the young woman's wrist and she followed him obediently. Sansa kept her eyes on his heels, clutching the slit down the back of her dress together with one hand. They avoided attention till they reached the top of the staircase and they both froze. The queen was making her way down the corridor accompanied by a herd of female guests.

"Is that the little dove returning to her nest?" The queen's lofty voice echoed down the hall.

Sandor glanced over his shoulder down at Sansa who reluctantly gazed up at him. She whispered, "What have you done?"

"Sansa, come. We're both too old for hide-and-seek," said Cersei with strange patience.

Sansa found that she could not breathe properly. Sandor frowned down at her struggling for air and was surprised that she could circle around him. The women surrounding the queen gasped in horror at the state of Sansa. She knew that she must look quite filthy. But, that was the least of her concerns.

The queen said to the women around her, "Leave me a while. I must spend time with little Sansa Stark alone."

Sansa glanced at Sandor out of the corner of her eye and saw him mouth, "Forgive me."

He then descended the staircase to return to his quarters. Sansa watched as Cersei approached her with an extended hand. Sansa trembled where she stood, awaiting whatever punishment the mother of the bastard who raped her would inflict upon her. Sansa glanced one more time at the spot where she had last seen Sandor. She understood why he returned her to hell's furnace.

But, it was strange to her that the man valued her life to the degree of rather having her suffer than dead. Sansa tried to make sense of his manner of thinking. She supposed it was his heinous demonstration of caring ... of _loving _her.

Cersei's hand looped around Sansa's arm and she pulled the shaking girl along with her, "You have not forgotten what we discussed a few days ago. I would think any confession I entrusted in you would be important enough to remember."

Sansa licked her dry lips, "I have not forgotten, your grace."

"The time my late husband and myself consummated our marriage was hardly consensual," the queen admitted to Sansa, who was shocked by how gentle the woman was behaving towards her. "I was too young to understand fully what being a wife entailed. Now, you have no hope of becoming queen. But, you will go through some of the same ... 'experiences' as I have."

Two guards held open the heavy doors to the queen's quarters and the two women strode inside. Sansa noticed that Cersei's marble tub was filled with steaming-hot water. The queen followed her gaze and a cold glint stole over her dark eyes.

"I am much too tired for a bath at the moment," the queen called to the handmaiden testing the temperature of the water. "See to it that this young woman is cleaned from her copper hair to her dainty feet. She must look her best for her king."

Sansa watched the steam dissipate on the cold ceiling and turned to Cersei, "The water may burn me, your grace."

The queen extracted her arm from around Sansa's and took a seat where leftovers of her breakfast were still set, "You are right. Shae, leave Sansa's face and torso above the water. My son would not want those damaged."

Sansa had thought that she was incapable of crying anymore. She felt ill with dehydration and her mouth felt so terribly dry. But, her green eyes leaked a few tiny tears as she strode to the only woman she could consider a friend in King's Landing.

* * *

Back in Sandor's room, the tall soldier was peering up through his window at the rising sun. He hated it, how the glowing orb rained warmth down on him. Sandor's heart felt cold, beating feverishly in his broad chest. He heard a woman scream and could only hope that it was not his little dove.

"What have I done?" he breathed.


	8. No Rest For The Wounded

Sansa limped into her room with Shae's arm wrapped around her waist. The porcelein skin around Sansa's emerald eyes were swollen and pinked from crying. Though, they were nothing compared with her legs that had been seared in the boiling bath water.

"I need you to lay here for me, m' lady." said Shae quietly, holding Sansa's hand with her free one.

Sansa shook her head and whimpered, "I can't."

"Yes, yes you can. You must, m' lady." insisted Shae, "I need to clean the burns before an infection sets in."

Sansa felt Shae's arm uncoiling from around her waist and she cried out when she had to put even more weight on her scalded feet. With Shae shushing the poor girl gently, Sansa pulled herself up onto her bed and felt Shae pushing Sansa's dress up to the middle of her back. The burns weren't as severe from that point to the middle of her thigh. But, it was still sensitive. The rest of the way down her long legs were shiny what with the first layer of skin being burned away.

Sansa felt Shae peel away remnants of the top layer of skin and Sansa buried her face into her blankets to muffle her screams and sobs. After a few minutes, Shae instructed Sansa to flip over onto her back. The handmaiden had to help her lady situated herself and gave Sansa a small pillow to support her head. When Shae peeled away the first strip of scalded skin, Sansa yanked her pillow out from under her head and pressed it over her mouth to continue screaming. Once Shae was done, the handmaiden took away the pillow and saw that Sansa was panting and choking on her own sobs.

"M' lady, you must breathe calmly." said Shae in a panic. "Try, just try. I will sooth the pain with a lotion that is not unlike aloe."

Sansa couldn't stop trembling. But, once her breathing became more level Shae fetched the clay jar from up on a high shelf and began carefully lathering Sansa's reddened legs. The lotion was fragrant, almost masking the odor of burning flesh.

"If my lady would be so inclined, I can offer a sponge bath for tonight." Shae suggested.

Sansa gingerly sat up on her bed to watch her handmaiden coat her legs in the thick light green substance. It was cold and relaxing. It did not eradicate all of the pain. But, it was better than without it. Sansa wiped her dripping nose on her overlarge sleeve and nodded up at the woman.

Shae helped tug Sansa's dirty dress up over her head and set it aside to be cleaned. Sansa carefully heaved herself up from her bed and laid a cloth on the ground for her to lay on. She busied herself with examining her copper hair while Shae filled a deep bowl with warm water and a sponge from the sea. The pair frowned when the sound of music reached their ears. Sansa couldn't believe that something as beautiful as these sounds had any place in Kings Landing.

She closed her eyes and began singing notes to the stringed instruments and Shae smiled for the first time in a long while. The handmaiden remarked silently that Sansa was truly evolving into a well-endowed woman. Sansa had known this for a while and suspected that was why Sandor's interest was intensifying. Was hers as well? Sansa could hardly believe that she was thinking of romance or that her singing voice had taken on happier tunes to match her evolving train of thought.

After a few minutes of gentle strokes from the sponge, there was a knock at Sansa's bedroom door. Sansa instinctively made to run from where she was sitting but whimpered at the pain of her broiled legs.

Shae helped Sansa to her feet while the knocking on her door grew more insistent, "Here, take this." she yanked a decorative blanket off a shelf and handed it to Sansa. "Go make yourself descent. I'll stall whoever has intruded."

Sansa limped over to hide behind a dresser that was as tall as the ceiling and clutched the maroon blanket to her chest.

"I am here for Sansa Stark," said a pleasant woman's voice.

Shae asked sternly, "Might I ask where you'll be taking my lady?"  
"The king is summoning her to sing in the choir," replied the other handmaid. "He was displeased by Margery's voice and needs Sansa's to heal his ears."

Sansa's tears began flowing again at the mention of Joffrey. Almost instantly she thought of him holding her face -down on his canopy bed and forcing himself inside of her. The handmaiden's heard her soft sobs and turned in the direction of the sad sound.

"Will he grace us with time to dress?" asked Shae pointedly.

The handmaiden shook her head, "If she must, it's at her own peril."

Sansa wished she had a balcony of her own to pitch herself off of. She couldn't imagine performing for Joffrey. Not after everything the king has done to her. He was a monster, a beast from her most hellish nightmares. But, was her loathing of Joffrey worth dying over? How would her father advise her? She had already failed him once. Sansa couldn't bear to disappoint her father by taking her own life.

To avoid further physical torment, Sansa took a deep breath and called out, "I will hurry for his Grace."


	9. A Song for a Soldier

Sansa wondered darkly if her father felt the same fear throbbing through her veins as she neared the banquet hall, escorted by Shae and another handmaiden whom she didn't have the energy to remember the name of. Her auburn hair was braided along the center of her head and bounced against her back as she walked. Shae had delivered a green dress for her to wear. It had ornate embellishments around the bosom and hemlines. Sansa's emerald eyes had dried of tears.

Her lips parted when she spotted Sandor standing beside the king, the boy who had stolen the one thing she had left. Sandor gave her a look that plainly told her that he wanted nothing more than to be at her side. Joffrey jeered at the sight of his former-fiance trembling at his feet.

"You may be beautiful, lady Sansa." He sneered, "But, that will hardly satisfy me. Sing, sing for the court."

Sansa took a few steps back from him and focused on a space on the wall closest to Sandor's mutilated yet hauntingly handsome face,

_"Her wings were severed_

_His lips reminded her of flight_

_Monster or savior he was_

_She now is certain _

_He held her aloft _

_Kindness mended her _

_A beast thought it had her_

_But the soldier saved her wings"_

Sansa looked into Sandor's eyes, hoping that he had understood that her song was for him and not the inadequate king enthroned at the top of the staircase. Joffrey, who had been listening with a bored sort of expression, licked his lips, "A song of your own. Your king is impressed."

Sansa felt like invisible swords were shredding her heart when she forced herself to bow to the boy who had violated her, "My only wish is to ... exceed your expectations, your Grace."


	10. The Guardian

Sansa closed her chamber door before Shae could follow her in. The handmaiden knocked once then, upon hearing Sansa's faint sobs, she reluctantly continued down the corridor away from her lady's chambers. While gritting her teeth, Sansa yanked the tie off from around the base of her braid. She shook her head till the braid came undone and cascaded in waves upon her shoulders. She lifted the hem of her dress to look at the stockings protecting her burns from infection.

They made it bearable for her to stand and walk. But, not for long. Sansa walked gingerly over to her bed and considered sleeping without undressing when the shadow of a tall man climbed up her wall. She spotted it reflecting in her mirror and, with a gasp, she turned to see who he was.

"Ser Clegane!" she stammered, placing a trembling hand over her heart.

Sandor walked towards her, "I didn't intend to frighten you, m'lady."

Sansa wondered how she could have not seen such a towering man when she closed herself in her chambers, "How long were you here?"

Sandor loomed over her, "I wanted to compliment you, Sansa. I thought your song was very ... beautiful."

"It was for you," Sansa whispered. "I wanted to ... I was trying to talk to you."

Sandor sniffed and squinted at her legs hidden beneath her dress, "I smell ... burns."

Sansa felt a tear drip down her cheek as Sandor knelt before her and lifted the hem of her dress just enough to examine her feet. The stockings were sheer. He could see the shiny new skin underneath the thin fabric.

He reached to touch the stinging skin but Sansa withdrew her foot with a whimper, "No, please, don't touch me." Sandor scowled up at her and Sansa added hurriedly, "No, it's not that I don't _want_ you to. It'll take some time to heal."

"Who did this to you?" Sandor demanded as he heaved himself back to his feet. "Was it our 'beloved' king?"

Sansa shook her head, "No, don't, Sandor. I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Don't worry for me, my lady." said Sandor darkly. "Tell me, or I will go with my gut."

Sansa wanted to sit down on her bed but her legs were trembling too much. She was afraid she'd fall to the ground if she took a step, "It does not matter _who_, Ser. What good will come of it, should you confront her?"

Sansa gasped as she let slip a clue to whom had boiled her skin. Sandor pursed his lips, "It was the bitch of the rapist, was it not?"

Sansa grasped his boney wrist, "Please, let this not leave my chambers. If I lose you, I'll have nothing else to be taken."

Sandor was seething, "I cannot protect you here."

"I understand," Sansa said as she placed her hands on his stomach. "Soon, the storm will end. Joffrey may not be the one to claim the throne. I promise you that when that day comes, I will follow you wherever you will go."

"Why can't that day come now?" growled Sandor, cupping Sansa's face in his large hands.

Sansa pressed her cheek into his palm and closed her eyes briefly, "It is not down to you to save me, Sandor. I am the daughter of the late Ned Stark, a lady of Winterfell. I have the spirit of the dire wolf. I know I can survive this."

Sandor pursed his lips then bent down greatly to kiss her lips forcefully, "Let there be no more pain, please. The gods cannot be more unsympathetic."

Sansa recalled what Cersei had told her during the Blackwater battle, "_The gods have no mercy. _I cannot depend on them. Sandor ... I cannot depend on you, either."

Sandor frowned, "Do you not trust me?"

"I do, Ser." Sansa nodded as she took a step back from him. "I just ... I fear what will come should we be found together."

"I am not known as the Hound for my looks," Sandor said strongly. "I am called that for my _bite_. No harm can come of you whilst I am here, guarding you."


	11. Healing

**(same night as in the previous chapter)**

Sansa hissed through her clenched teeth at the stinging pain from her knee. Her skin was still peeling at the fresh set was incredibly sensitive to the touch.

"Lie down, Sansa, before you fall." Sandor ordered.

She nodded and gingerly climbed on top of her bed sheets. When Sandor reached for the hem of her dress, she did not object. When he gazed into her tearful green eyes, she nodded. Sandor pinched the hem of her dress and lifted it to examine her freshly pinked skin. Sansa watched his strong jaw clench in fury.

"I should not have brought you back that day," Sandor grumbled, stepping away.

Sansa shook her head and sat up, her auburn hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back, "I find myself wishing I could go back to _that_ day. But, not so much for the reasons you'd guess, Ser." Sandor sat down at the foot of her bed and Sansa was happy that he was feeling more at leisure around her. She elaborated, "When we slept together on your cot. Remember that? That is a fond memory for me. It's light burns away the terror that preceded it."

There was barely a hint of a smile on Sandor's dry lips, "I am glad that I could comfort you in such a way, my lady."

Sansa propped herself up on her elbows and craned her neck upward, "I haven't stopped needing you yet. I fret that I never will."

Sandor scooted a little closer to her, draping her long legs carefully over his lap and pushing her dress almost up to her thighs. Without warning, Sansa instantly thought of when she had awoken to Joffrey rolling her dress up to her waist. She sat up abruptly which alarmed Sandor. But, when he glanced down at how her dress had steadily made its way up her legs, he seemed to understand her behavior.

Sandor cleared his throat and hesitantly cupped her face with one of his enormous hands, "Sansa, you know that I am a soldier ... and you are the king's prisoner, privileged as you may be. But, I have no trouble forgetting these labels here," he pointed at her and at himself, "Before I leave you tonight, I want you to know that there are good people in the world. I want to promise you that you will one day have a man who can provide for you and love you - "

"I love you, Sandor." Sansa whispered, her lips gaping apart a little afterwards as though exhausted from imprisoning the truth.

Sandor blinked like he had been struck across his face. Suddenly, their lips were crashing into each other. Sansa had not felt this warm in so long. This was nothing compared to the aftertaste of wine, to the ray of the sun, or the heat radiating from Flea Bottom (the poorest section of the city). Sandor was solid and strong, hardly faltering as Sansa pulled herself onto his lap, maneuvering so that her legs were on either side of his waist.

She was glad that he had not worn his chainmail pants tonight. His leather set was not as harsh against her sensitive skin. She cupped his face and drank in his lips, sucking on them quite forcefully. Sandor's large hands remained on her wide hips. He never fooled himself into wishing he would be in this dreamlike reality.

How have they not been interrupted by now? Perhaps it was due to Joffrey's inbreeded misfortune, but, he had yet to take note of how much time his 'dog' was obviously spending away from his side. Perhaps he feared Sandor since the battle of Blackwater, having learned that the soldier was not so loyal to Joffrey and now fearing being without the 'dog's' protection. More likely, though, was the new company of Margaery Tyrell. She was his new fiance, a spot Sansa would have given up voluntarily without hesitation.

Though, now, it has been obvious that her treatment around the castle has not improved. In fact, it has grown worse. Her legs were healing with agonizingly slow progression. Only now in pressed against Sandor's broad chest was she capable of forgetting the pain. Sandor was not laying on her bed and the waistband of his pants were at his knees. This all happened in no more than half a minute.

Sandor gently covered Sansa's mouth when she gasped at the ache of him entering her. They were in no position to risk drawing attention to her room tonight. Sansa nodded against his palm and kissed it. Sandor was, unfortunately, far larger than Joffrey. Sansa found it a little difficult to keep him inside of her when she was on top instead of on the bottom like ... before. She squeezed her eyes shut, forbidding herself from thinking of the monstrous king whom stole her virginity.

Sansa laid her forehead against Sandor's as she steadily increased her pace. When her pace grew quite fast, she suddenly felt something warm spread inside of her and Sandor bit his lips closed, shuddering as he came. Sansa crumbled to his side and he turned so that he could tuck her head underneath his chin, kissing her forehead.

"I wish I could have given you my virginity, Sandor. I am truly sorry," Sansa said tearfully, burring her face in his shirt.

Sandor gazed mournfully out her window and shuddered, "It will take more than my strength not to dismember the king. Make it impossible for him to ever commit such a crime again."

Sansa wriggled closer to him while he pulled his pants back up to his hips. She was feeling very sleepy, "Please, stay with me tonight. I can't be alone."

"If we are found together, we will both be executed."

Sansa kissed him, "I understand."

It was with the sickest swelling of sorrow in her throat that she watched her guardian and lover close her bedroom door, leaving her reluctantly. Sansa pressed her hand over her belly and kept her eyes closed until she fell asleep.


	12. Need

"Will you stop eating? You're getting fat!" Joffrey sneered as he past Sansa in the corridor with the Kings Guard flanking him.

Sansa's hollow cheeks flushed red at his insensitive jab. She did not expect anything better from him. _Was it not enough that he had raped her? When would he be satisfied with her despair? _His words were as far from the truth as Kings Landing was from Winterfell. Sansa had been resisting eating around him, so, she tried her best to eat in secret. She was starving all the time now and she didn't know why ... _or, was she in denial?_

Sansa let him see a flicker of pain in her eye to satisfy his grotesque amusement. However, when king Joffrey rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, Sansa was overwhelmed by a growl from her stomach. She clacked her shoes down the short flight of stairs and didn't stop running till she was almost to her chambers.

"My lady!" she heard a deep voice whisper huskily and felt a large hand close around her arm.

Sansa was so surprised that she dropped the bread she had been concealing in her hand, "Sandor!" she looked up at him, far from relaxing. "What are you doing? We could be seen at any moment!"

Sandor nodded and opened her door for her, following her inside, "I had to see you. It has been two weeks since we've been alone. I was worried."

Sansa tucked a stray auburn lock of hair behind her tiny ear, "Sandor, I am ill. I cannot say why, but, I cannot let you -"

Sandor swooped down and kissed her rather forcefully, "I passed you in the dining. It hurt that I could not make contact. It killed me that I could not reprimand _him _for what he said to you. I'd have yanked his mouth open and stuffed him with all the bread in Kings Landing, watch that boney boy explode -"

Sansa felt a wave of nausea overtake her and ducked around him. Dropping to her knees at her empty chamber pot, Sansa heaved up anything she had managed that day. Sandor watched for a moment, stuck between worry and embarrassment before kneeling at her side.

"That was crude of me, my Sansa. I must be reminded to withhold my dark thoughts from you," Sandor laid a hand on her shivering back.

Sansa sat back on the ground, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, "Didn't you hear me? I_ told_ you I was sick! You pushed me too far -"

Sandor shushed her warmly and helped her to her feet, leading her to her bed, "Forgive me, my lady. Forgive me."

Sansa felt a tear drip down to her gaping mouth, "There's nothing to forgive. I am ill, that is all. I am sensitive to graphic imagery. Sandor, there's nothing I'd rather see than 'his grace' suffering. Don't you know that?"

Sandor furrowed his heavy brow, "Then why, my lady, did you -?"

"I am ill, that is all." Sansa insisted, laying a hand on her stomach. "It will soon pass." She kept him from sitting beside her on the bed, knowing what that could lead to, "What if I am contagious? You cannot fall ill, Sandor."

Sandor smiled and knelt before her, his scared eye dimpling in a charming way, "I will not leave this room till I have comforted you."

Sansa wiped away another tear, "Nothing I say will convince you to leave me? Not even for your health?"

Sandor got closer, "Only if it is what you truly want. Somehow, I don't believe it is. The loneliest girl in Kings Landing not persuaded by the company of a soldier? It is unheard of, my lady. And if you have concerns for my health, do not tell me to go."

Sansa kept her hand on her stomach as she kissed him, "Alright, my soldier. I accept your favor."

When Sandor laid Sansa on her back, Sansa felt all hints of nausea dissolve with the heat of his breath on her mouth. She pulled the bow at the nape of her neck free, unbinding her dress so that she could push the neckline down to her stomach. Sandor removed his chainmail so that he would not pinch her porcelein skin when he laid down on top of her. Sansa giggled, forgetting all thoughts of Joffrey, while she pulled his shirt off from over his head. Sandor slowly pulled the hemline of Sansa's green dress above her knees, letting his fingernails trail her skin to tickle her.

Sansa braced herself as he eased inside of her, braced for the ache ... that wasn't there. She could certainly feel him, but, it wasn't as painful as before. Sandor had to slow down when the headboard of Sansa's bed began to bang against the wall it was against. Sansa held him to her, pressing his very broad chest against hers and enjoying the weight of him on her. She panted in his ear, reminding herself not to cry out when her time came.

He eased himself out, but, not in time to avoid coming inside of her again. Sandor growled and rolled over to lay at her side. He wondered how much she knew of the risk they were taking each time. Forget getting caught in the act. If he wasn't more careful, there would be a very obvious sign within a year.

Sandor watched Sansa stepped down from her bed and place her hands on the wall, "Can you tie me back up, please?"

Sandor hadn't noticed before, but, Sansa was not wearing a corset. This puzzled him, as all upstanding ladies in Kings Landing did. Even those fare poorer than the queen managed.

Sandor closed his pants before standing behind Sansa, "If you are so keen to avoid tempting his grace, may I be so bold as to recommend a form of binding, my lady? I do not want you to parade yourself around him -"

Sansa wipped around and smacked his hand, "I'll have you know that I've outgrown mine! If you must know, my handmaiden is down in the town adjusting my newest! And I do _not _'parade' myself before the king! How _dare_ you -!"

Sandor shushed her, "Can't you sense nothing but concern for you in my inquiry, lady Sansa?"

"I sensed _rudeness_!" Sansa frowned up at the man whom towered over her. As suddenly as her outburst came, she blushed, "Oh, forgive me, Sandor. I don't know what came over me. Of course, you're right. I shall remain in my chambers until Shae returns."

Sandor nodded and Sansa turned her back on him again so that he could finish tying her dress, "I would never insult you, my lady. You are the fairest and most intelligent woman I've ever known. The gods have blessed me to have you call mine."

Sansa tied the bow at the nape of her neck after Sandor struggled with it for a few tries, "Would ... _can_ you be married?"

Sandor held her to him, her hands on his belly, "I don't need a ceremony or witnesses, Sansa. As far as I am concerned, I _am_."


End file.
